Not Good
by The Path of Supreme Conquest
Summary: Buttercup was his friend. That was all. For some reason, his brother's were convinced that wasn't true. Butch finally realizes why.


**I love these two.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

…

"Where are you going?"

Butch snorted and shot a look at his brothers. "Oh, I don't know, I've just got my gym bag with me. I can't imagine where I'm headed."

"No need to be so touchy," the blonde said, pouting.

"How long are you going to be gone?" Brick asked. Or demanded. That sounded right. The only person Brick ever _asked_ anything of was his girlfriend. Though, to be fair, Blossom wasn't the sort of person anyone but her sisters could get away with demanding something of.

Butch shrugged. "Don't know. However long Buttercup feels like working out for."

Brick rose an eyebrow, his lips twitching.

Boomer didn't even try for subtlety. "Seriously?" he questioned, a sly grin stretching across his lips. " _Working out_? Is that the code you two use for– Ow!"

Brick smirked and shook his head. "That's a bit defensive, don't you think?"

Butch groaned. "Not you too. Aren't you supposed to be the mature one?"

"This has nothing to do with maturity. The two of you are always together. We're just curious if you've given in to the oppressive sexual tension between you and Buttercup."

"We're running a pool," Boomer offered.

Butch gaped. He wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, he wanted to be amused because it was sort of hilarious that everyone thought he and Buttercup were going to get together. On the other hand, it wasn't funny at all.

"It's Buttercup!"

Boomer and Brick exchanged a look that made Butch roll his eyes.

"Normally you'd be joining in with the jokes right now – even at your expense. The fact that you're not says something, don't you think?"

"Don't try and psychoanalyze me, Brick! I'm not joining in because Buttercup would break my everything if she found out, and Boomer's got a big mouth."

"Hey!"

"Fair enough. But is that the only reason?"

"Oh my gosh," Butch muttered, stalking out of the house without responding.

His brothers were matchmaking idiots and it was honestly starting to grate on his nerves. He focused on his annoyance to avoid the niggling sensation that said they had a point. Because they didn't. It was just their constant moaning about the subject starting to get to him.

"Idiots."

…

"What took so long?"

"Oh, stop moaning. I'm here, aren't I? Ow!"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop moaning."

He scowled and massaged his shoulder. "You know you hit harder than Boomer?"

She smirked and stretched her arms to the sky. "That's not actually a surprise."

He snorted and was determinedly not looking at her in a non-platonic way. Who invented sports bras? He hoped that person had been murdered in a violent way.

Buttercup ran a hand through her hair and walked to the mats. "You know, I'm really glad the professor helped make this room in the gym for all of us – especially since the two of us get pretty rough."

He was not looking at her butt. He was, however, cursing whoever had invented bicycle shorts and wondering why Buttercup was wearing them when they weren't even cycling.

And then what she said caught up with him.

No one could blame him for turning red. "Wait, what?"

She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyebrow arched in question. "What?"

He gaped for a moment before shaking his head. Nope. He wasn't going there. Technically, he was already there, but that was irrelevant. What little self-control he had was focused on preventing him from… going further.

Why was this a situation to implement self-control?

"I hate my brothers."

She snorted. "That was random. What'd they do?"

"They're just… being idiots."

"Mad at them for stealing your job? Not like you're good at anything else?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," he retorted automatically, his tone well past suggestive.

And then she was looking at him over her shoulder, a smirk on her lips, one eyebrow cocked, and a glint in her eye that sort of floored him.

What the…

Was this what they meant by sexual tension? But…

"That's impossible."

Buttercup frowned and turned to him completely. "Oi, are you all right? You're acting sort of off."

"What? No, I…"

But she was walking up to him and then her hand was on his forehead and they were standing so close. There was a small pout on her lips and her brow was furrowed and she was looking at him like she was concerned. And she _was_ concerned. And all of a sudden he was entirely lost.

"You can't be sick, but–"

"I've go to go!"

She blinked at him. "What?"

"I've… I've got to go. I just… I've got to go."

And he flew out of the building like he was being chased, ignoring her call.

This was not good.

…

"That was fast," Boomer commented as Butch stalked into the house.

Butch shot him a fierce glare that had Boomer raising his hands in an attempt to placate him.

Brick and Boomer watched as their brother stormed past them and nearly flinched when they heard him slam his door shut.

They shared a look.

"Told you that would work."

"I'm never underestimating your psychobabble again."

Brick snorted and smirked. "I win the pot this time. I'll call Blossom so we can set up a new one. This time we'll see when Buttercup realizes."

"YOU TWO DO REALIZE I CAN HEAR YOU, RIGHT?"

"No need to yell then," Brick muttered.

"We don't care!"

"I HATE YOU BOTH!"

…

 **Is it wrong to end without an actual resolution? Maybe.**

 **T.N.T!**


End file.
